


There's a strange exhilaration

by Florchis



Series: Delta [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bi Daisy Johnson, Bi Jemma Simmons, Bisexual Female Character, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Seven Minutes In Heaven, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Daisy Johnson hates Leopold Fitz. She also makes out with him. It’s Jemma Simmons’s fault. Or: The one where Simmons makes her girlfriend and her boyfriend play Seven Minutes in Heaven.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a Daisy/Fitz fic, but it also references heavily the fact that both of them are dating Jemma. Be aware of that fact. Title from “What is this feeling?” from Wicked.

Daisy Johnson knows exactly three things about Leopold Fitz.

One: He too is dating her girlfriend, Jemma Simmons.

Two: She hates him, really, _truly_ hates him.

Three: He is an amazing kisser.

Oh, and also he is an engineer of some kind. That makes four, then.

(To be honest, Daisy knows a whole lot more about Fitz, because there are moments when _Jemma won’t shut up about him,_  and Daisy founds it more endearing than infuriating, but she will deny it till her dying day.)

But, right now, this three facts are the only thing she knows about him, because they are the only ones that matter: because, one, Jemma got them in this predicament; because, two, Daisy wants to rip his handsome face off; and because, three, she is thrusting her tongue in his throat like she could kill him with it.

“I can’t believe we are doing this.”

He sounds breathless, and Daisy wants to tease him, to tell him that he should exercise more is he is getting winded up with so little, or that she knows she is attractive, but that he doesn’t need to choke on air to feed her ego; but, well, maybe she can’t tease him, because she might be the tiniest bit breathless herself.

“Don’t pat yourself on the back too much, you know I’m only doing this because Simmons didn’t give us much of a choice.”

For a moment, he looks like he is about to say something, but finally he closes his mouth without a peep. Daisy is grateful, because she is sure he was about to say something about how Simmons is not in here to check exactly what they’re doing, that she doesn’t have to kiss him if she doesn’t want, and Daisy can’t have anything of that. Because if he puts that argument under the light she will have to admit that it’s true and get off his lap and, well, it’s a cold day and he is warm, and his arms feel nice around her waist, and all that jazz, even though _she hates him_.         

She kisses him again, partly to get these contradictions out of her mind, partly because she is sitting on his lap and his broad hands feel amazing on her back and he is hard against her inner thigh even though she knows he is trying to hide it as best as he can in his position. She kisses him again, and the kiss gets very heated very fast, and maybe that is why you play _Seven Minutes_ in Heaven and not, like, _Half an Hour_ in Heaven, because this way the adrenaline is higher and everything is frenetic and rushed and _so so hot_. He sneaks his hands under her blouse and Daisy swallows a gasp, because she won’t give him the satisfaction of letting how much he is affecting her show.

“I thought that you hated me.” He murmurs against her cheek once they break the kiss.

“I do. This has nothing to do with that. Have you never heard of the term ‘hate sex’?”

“Yeah. But it’s not quite my style.”

She totally should leave him hanging or slap him or something. What does he think he is doing? How can he be such a softie? This is outrageous. They should be going at each other’s throats, or ripping each other’s clothes (or both at the same time, she wouldn’t complain), not talking while embraced like a goddamned married couple.

“So what? I’m not gonna give you a gold star for being a good boy. Or date you. I don’t date dudes.” Because she _dated_ dudes, and they fucked her over. She is not about to tell him that.

He smiles, and damn his stubble and his wonderful kisses and his tender hands and his soft, breathtakingly blue eyes.

“I just wanted you to know.” And he is kissing her again, but this time the kiss is slow and deep, like maybe he is savouring her by taking his time, and Daisy’s heart catches on her throat. He is not supposed to be doing this, how can she keep her stance without the rushed arousal and the desperation to keep the unwanted feelings distracted? “I really like you, Daisy.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but his accent is thicker after the kiss, and she shouldn’t find it this hot, because since when she has a thing for british people? Should she get herself checked for some kind of fetish?

But even though she tries to hide it with jokes and snark, the truth is that she doesn’t hate him, not even a little bit, because she has only heard amazing things about him from Jemma, and Daisy herself is not blind to his kindness, his smart-mouth, his loving nature and even her handsome face (if a little pasty, like Simmons likes to say). She pretends she hates him, mostly because she resented him a little at the beginning of her relationship with Jemma. Simmons had been pining after him since like forever, and this scatterbrain only decided that he liked her back after Jemma started dating Daisy. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that, because they have already decided they wanted an open relationship, but it is the principle of the thing that matters. How can you be at the same time a certified genius and need a decade to understand how to appreciate someone as amazing as Jemma Simmons like she deserves?

But time has gone past, and Fitz makes Jemma really happy and who is she to keep a grudge against him when his victim herself has forgiven him (or never even blamed him in the first place)? Maybe her past experiences with men are keeping her from forming any kind of bond with him, even the ‘Founders of the Jemma Simmons fanclub’ kind of bond. Maybe she is being prejudiced, something that no one deserves. Maybe she is just afraid of getting herself into something too deep, too complicated, too wonderful, and pretend to hate him makes it easier to avoid that thoughts and that barely-formed feelings. Or maybe she is just reading too much in that tug on her gut that wants her to gravitate around him, and that she always resists with teeth and nails.

“Shut up Fitz. Just shup up and kiss me again.”  

“I can do that.”

They kiss and they kiss and they kiss and Daisy tries to get lost on his tongue and his fingers and the warmth of his body and all the pleasurable points where they are pressed together as if they were all things coming from an unidentified pleasure source, but she can’t forget that is him who she is kissing, and somehow that makes it even better instead of worse.

“The time is up already! Can I open the door? Are you two decent?” Jemma’s voice comes muffled from the other side of the door, and instead of rushing to put the more distance possible between them, Daisy freezes. Fitz, on the other hand, keeps on kissing a path that goes from Daisy’s jaw to the lower point of her cleavage, as if nothing were happening.

“Get off!”

Her voice is harsh, but Fitz looks at her with very intense eyes and a raised eyebrow. Right, she is the one that is seated on top of him, with her legs tangled around his waist and her hands at the nape of his neck. Daisy blushes, and untangles herself from him clumsily.

“Yes, Jemma, you can open the door.”

Daisy looks at him like he had gone crazy, she is just fixing her hair, she didn’t have time yet to close the two buttons on her blouse that she doesn’t even know how got opened. Fitz just smiles at her, still sitting on the floor, his hair mussed, an obvious bulge on his pants and… is that a hickey high on his neck?

Jemma opens the door smirking like the cat that got the cream, while Daisy tries to not look too much like he got caught with her pants down (figuratively, yes, but almost literally, too). Fitz and Simmons smile at each other too knowingly for Daisy to be comfortable with it.

“Can we go now? This party is boring as hell.” Jemma asks while she extends one hand to help Fitz get up.

“Go where?” Her voice sounds raspy and rough, and Daisy can feel her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“Don’t know. Do you wanna hang up for a bit at my place, maybe?”

Daisy doesn’t know if it is because their combined IQ numbers are frightening for her own brain or what, but she feels like her own mind has been reduced to pudding. Why does it feel like there are a million small meanings she is failing to catch behind her words?

“Are you talking to me or to him?”

Jemma smiles again, and this time is definitely a cat-like smile.

“Why not both?”            


End file.
